If you ask my children, I’m not sure they would agree that I balanced or maintained activism in a way that was manageable. I think they often felt that politics took me away from home too much. There was a point in time when I really cut back on political work, as the children got older. I cut back on meetings, although I don’t think they perceived that I did. I’ve learned since to appreciate that their perception is their reality. That’s what you have to deal with. Not your perceptions of their reality, but the perception from their point of view and its impact on their lives.
I came from a very small town with a 1950s education, so my going to college was an education in terms of skills, being in an urban environment, and being amidst political change. There were tremendous ideological debates going on in that time. I was hungry for political and intellectual dialogue and debate, and I sort of walked into the middle of this and I thought, “This is heaven.” That was finding a home for myself. I was no longer the oddball reading beat poetry under my covers in a small community. I had walked into a school where there was this lively debate going on, and I thought, “This is what my life is about!” I felt like I had found it, and it was about a bigger picture.
Part of what was very helpful for me in trying to make things manageable and one of the things that came out of that period of time is that I’ve always been a part of collectives. I’ve always had very good friends who have been a part of helping me provide. It wasn’t just that they supported me, but that they tried to help the reality of a person who was an activist and had responsibility to a family, especially during a time when I was single parenting, which made it much, much more difficult. So things like their trying to organize events that involved children, for example. I grew up in a big family, which may have helped me with the cooperation and working-well-together piece, too.
Other things that were helpful included having a wonderful therapist who helped me to figure out how to do what I was trying to do. I was active in the women’s movement and I have a lot of friends. I have a great deal of difficulty asking for help, but I’m smart enough to have friends who will ask if they can help me with something. The political organizations I was a part of gave me confidence. One of the things that changed dramatically from the time I was first involved is how the movement viewed women. The changes and growth within the Party in terms of political and theoretical education eventually led to a commitment that women should be in leadership. If you’re relegated to the mimeograph machine and there’s not a commitment to fighting racism and sexism in the group, then it’s very debilitating. I’ve always been a part of organizations that had a class analysis and a commitment to fight racism and sexism. Having people I could talk to and who I could really connect with was helpful—and still is.
One of the most basic defenses is denial, so I never ever stopped to think about how difficult it was to be a single parent until it was done. My mother really was a feminist in her own way. I grew up with this idea, watching her, that you sew your kids’ clothes, you make their Halloween costumes, you make your own holiday presents, you make their lunches each day before school. That was my expectation of what a mom is. By conscious choice, we didn’t have a television, so after the kids go to bed, you knit or crochet or do these types of projects.
What helped me to keep going is that I really believe in the goodness of human beings and that people can change. I have this capacity to get up in the morning and look at the sunshine and say,“Hey, what are we going to do today?”There are always people around me who have this same kind of optimism and belief that another world is possible, and I draw from them. The communities we create help not only in the day-to-day stuff but also in holding these larger beliefs.
When my children were in junior high and high school, I was active in the trade union movement (Local 509 SEIU). I was also active in local town politics while I worked for the commonwealth at what was then the Office for Children. I left that job because I was going to be laid off and the timing was good for me to think about how to best do what I wanted—how did I want to live the rest of my life given my split from the Communist Party and my need to rethink priorities, analysis, what is socialism/communism, democracy, and so on. I was also asking myself, “How do I find a different political home?” because the Party had been a home for me. I left the Office for Children in the fall of 1992 and immediately started law school when my youngest graduated from high school. I became a labor lawyer upon graduating, working for the United Electrical, Radio and Machine Workers of America (UE), of which I am now general counsel. The UE can best be described as a national, independent, rank and file, democratic trade union, not affiliated with either the AFL-CIO or CTW. In my current work, I’m able to combine all of those things that are priorities for me, including politics, and I see this union as a part of making systemic change in the country.
But it’s really not simple. I don’t want it ever to be seen that you can’t do both or that you have to make choices that make people feel that their lives are in conflict with their politics. I was fortunate that I was able to have access to education in a way that did not incur debt; I could have professional, nonprofit-advocacy-type jobs that paid enough that you feel like you’re doing good work and you’re able to support your family. In essence, I think you have to both confront immediate manifestations of injustice and work for systemic change. That is what I did. I fought oppression where I was at the same time that I fought for a long-term vision related to fundamental change in economic, social, and power relationships in the U.S.—while raising two children (mostly as a single parent) and working full time or part time all the while.
If all you do is the day-to-day stuff and you don’t figure out where you’re going in the big picture, you can burn out pretty easily. On the other hand, if you’re an armchair revolutionary, what’s that worth?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WEST • Finding Balance
Coming full circle into the west, we call upon the strength and introspection of the air element. By striving to achieve balance in our lives, moving energy through, and reminding ourselves of all that we are grateful for, we attend to needs as basic as the air we breathe. We celebrate the strength we receive by connecting to our inner self through our breath. The air is seen as universal power in traditional cultures; when we honor the changing winds, we see the impermanence of everything and understand the beauty of being awake for the here and now.
Engaging with Our Lives Outside of Work
I didn’t realize how bad I’d gotten until I left.
Health care worker
For many of us committed to the “repair of the world,” it can be a desperate struggle to find a balance between our selves and our work. On one hand, it can be tempting to harden ourselves and disassociate from our work when it gets difficult. On the other, we get buried so deeply in the brutality around us that we forget to take care of ourselves entirely. Either way, it may become increasingly difficult to feel whole again. For this reason, it is important to create a work environment for yourself that is as humane as possible.
I was heartened to learn that some child protective services workers in Seattle meet in the local park to practice tae kwon do during their lunch hour, and that others drive down to the lake and sit eating their lunches with a view of the Cascade Mountains. A domestic violence advocate particularly endeared herself to me by describing the five-minute lunch breaks she took in the always-hectic emergency shelter where she worked. She would close her door and spread out a white paper napkin on her desk, arrange her modest meal on her makeshift placemat, and, to the best of her ability, eat her food in relative peace and quiet. Meanwhile, other workers struggle to avoid car accidents while eating their lunches and driving between home visits or meetings. Some people don’t go to the bathroom for the whole time they’re at work, and others work when they are sick. In New Orleans, one dedicated nurse continued to volunteer at a clinic even while she had mono. These types of stories are not unusual.
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br /> “Under our holistic approach, Mr. Wyndot, we not only treat your symptoms, We also trent Your dog.”
In the long term, as we’ve seen, it simply doesn’t work to check our true selves at the door and hope that we can reconnect at the end of the day. Whatever we can do right now to create a more holistic or integrated approach to our work is a worthwhile effort. Consider your particular work environment and daily routine. What moments can you reclaim to attend to your inner well-being? Three minutes between meetings? Part of the drive to a site visit? The five minutes you have when a patient is late? Any one of these may be an opportunity to regroup and center yourself.
For years, I was blessed to have a beloved rottweiler named Caleb in my life. He eventually led me to the field of animal-assisted therapy. But before I even knew such a field existed, I watched in amazement as my dog connected with individuals and groups in crisis or transition or in pain. Caleb would find that one person in a domestic violence support group who most needed to connect with unconditional acceptance. He would move slowly toward her, placing his huge head gently on her leg, and she would gratefully stroke his fur for the duration of the group. Caleb would lean into the tattooed, pierced, and emaciated body of a distraught homeless youth who hadn’t talked to anyone in weeks, and the boy would crouch down and hug him. Caleb could sense which child in an AIDS support group was most afraid of him and of life in general. He would wind his way around the group until he reached her. He would place himself flat on the floor, making his 110-pound self seem as small as possible. Finally the child would reach out, taking one of his ears in her small hand—she would pet first one ear, then the other, and then his whole head, for the remainder of the hour.
I was able to do work during that time of my life in a way I never could have without Caleb. He was so frequently able to bridge what is often a large chasm between humans. Equally important, he provided a foundation of comfort and inspiration for me. How depressed could I get with my soul mate by my side at all times?
It is also a very good plan every now and then to go away and have a little relaxation, for when you come back to the work, your judgment will be surer, since to remain constantly at work will cause you to lose the power of judgment. It is also advisable to go some distance away, because then the work appears smaller, and more of it is taken in at a glance, and a lack of harmony or proportion in the various parts and the colors of the objects is more readily seen.
Leonardo da Vinci, Italian engineer and painter
“I said, ‘I’ not on duty! I just come back to get my flip-flip.’”
Never underestimate what you can weave into your shift, work, or career to make it a healthier place for you to be. Decide that being a martyr in the workplace is a thing of the past. Negotiate a sane schedule before accepting a job, and renegotiate your current agreement if need be. Surround yourself with colleagues who will support you as you stick to your agreed-upon hours and take time off. Be a positive force in your workplace: When your colleagues leave for vacation, tell them to enjoy themselves and not to look back; remind them that you have everything handled. Don’t perpetuate the guilt-tripping that so often goes on, with muttered comments like,“It must be nice for you. Wish we could all take time away.” Remember that we are only a benefit to those we serve if we are able to have some true balance in our life. As is written in the Daily Tao,“The sun shines half a day, the moon dominates the rest. Even contemplation should have its proper duration.” When you go away from work, really leave. No pagers, cell phones, or devices you have to check. Really engaging in the rejuvenating activities of your life outside of work is essential for trauma stewardship. As one health care worker said, “I make an appointment with sleep.”
My children recently asked me if I could remember the last time we spent time together, all of us, as a family. It’s been so long, I can’t even remember the last time.
Wildlife conservationist, Democratic Republic of Congo
1. Identify one thing that you would love to incorporate into your workday but are certain you could not. Now try everything in your power to make that aspiration a reality.
2. Write down all your sick leave time, vacation time, and mental health days. Start planning ahead . . . now!
3. Remember that the labor movement and countless other individuals worked hard to create weekends and breaks and more humane working conditions. Resolve to honor those who have gone before you by agreeing only to a sustainable work schedule and sticking to it.
Moving Energy Through
I haven’t breathed since last week.
Community-clinic executive director during a crisis period
We can strive for balance in other ways, too. We can’t get mired in one overstressed state. We need to keep our internal energy moving, like the wind.
In traditional Chinese medicine, there is a belief that dis-ease in one’s being comes in part from stagnant energy. When we talk about energy, we are talking about your life force, your vitality, what it is that makes you you, your very essence. It’s what gets you up in the morning, what you feel when someone walks into the room, the sensations you recall when you think about a person or animal who has died. An important part of well-being in this tradition is keeping the energy moving and not allowing it to stagnate around any one feeling or issue. This is an invaluable practice for those of us who interact with suffering: being able to exist with awareness amid radiating waves of pain. Rather than absorbing and accumulating them, we can learn to let them ripple out and away.
Peter Levine invites us to learn from animals in the wild to gain insight into why, as humans, we are so often traumatized, while animals so rarely are. Through his decades of study, he found that humans and animals have in common three basic responses to threat, each of them directed by the primitive, reptilian part of the brain. These are the flight, fight, and immobility (freezing) responses.
When we perceive a threat, a great deal of energy is summoned. When we are able to fight or flee, that energy is naturally discharged—and as we see with animals in the wild, it is possible to return to life as it was before the threat. If we are unable to fight or flee from a threat, our organism instinctively constricts (or freezes) in a last-ditch effort at self-preservation. Again, when an animal in the wild survives danger through immobility, it will unfreeze itself, literally shake off the accumulated energy, and continue to graze or care for its young—in other words, it will generally go about its business.
As Levine found, however, this release is not so easy for humans. When we move into the constricted freezing response, a tremendous amount of energy becomes bound up and begins to overwhelm our nervous system. If our reptilian brain impulses were allowed to run their course, we would discharge this expanse of highly charged energy once the threat passed. Instead, however, our highly evolved neocortex (rational brain) often gets in the way. The fear and desire for control that arise in the neocortex can be so powerful that they interrupt the restorative impulses that would allow for a necessary form of discharge. As humans, then, we are stranded partway through the same nervous system cycle that keeps animals well and thriving. In us, undischarged residual energy becomes the seed for deep-rooted trauma. Many of the symptoms of trauma exposure response we discussed in chapter 4 are signs of our organism’s effort to contain this undischarged energy.
As Levine sums it up in Waking the Tiger, “The neocortex is not powerful enough to override the instinctual defense response to threat and danger—the fight, flee, or freeze response. In this respect we humans are still inextricably bound to our animal heritage. Animals, however, do not have a highly evolved neocortex to interfere with the natural return to normal functioning through some form of discharge. In humans, trauma occurs as a result of the initiation of an instinctual cycle that is not allowed to finish.”
Levine has used his research as the basis for an approach to healing trauma that he calls “somatic experiencing.” Practitioners of somatic experiencing believe that “the
core of traumatic reaction is ultimately physiological, and it is at this level that healing begins.” Levine’s method applies a variety of techniques to liberate energy that has become frozen as a result of trauma. When it succeeds, the nervous system is able to return to its original resilient and self-regulating state.
Learning how to work with our internal energies is one of the first steps in supporting our body’s innate capacity to heal. We can gently explore ways to keep our internal energy flowing. When it is blocked, we can look for activities that unblock it. This will create the foundation we need for long-term wellness.
It’s like I feel all this toxicity build up inside of me, and if I don’t go surfing or go biking or go for a run, I can’t function anymore.
Mark Thanassi, attending physician, emergency medicine, Santa Clara, California
In Jewish tradition there is the practice of sitting shiva when someone dies. For the vast majority of Jews, support for the bereaved during this time takes the form of intimate contact and conversation. In some Orthodox communities, however, one of the guidelines for sitting shiva is that the visitors are expected to talk with the mourners only once they have been explicitly addressed by the bereaved. One reason for this is a respect for the enormous power of bearing witness. It’s not about what we do, what we say, or how we touch—it’s about being present in a way that tells those who are suffering that they are not and never will be alone. Because we are all inherently connected, the witnesses will share some of the burden of what the mourners are experiencing—even if they do no other thing.
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